Letters to Severus
by SageandChocolate
Summary: Hermione's always known that she felt romantically for the Potion's Professor. Over the course of seven years, will her letters to him be what sparks his own desire?


Chapter One

_A/N: I'm not sure which story it was, but I read one recently in 8? chapters and found it to be very inspirational in creating this one. When I find it again I will update with that story's name. This one will be similar at the onset, but more expansive and definitely longer, with mature content in the later chapters._

Twelve year old Hermione sat cross legged on her bed, two hands behind her back holding her up, and let out a large sigh. Her bottom lip managed to ease behind her front teeth and she worried it for several moments before giving up and flopping forward, onto her stomach.

The knock at the door took her by surprise, but she sat up and directed her attention towards the doorway where her father entered.

"Hey, Daddy," she smiled.

"Hello pumpkin," her father smiled back and crossed the room to sit beside her. "Your mother said you were thinking about something rather hard this afternoon. Did you figure it out?"

"No," she frowned, snuggling into her father and sighing. "No, I didn't."

"Do you want some advice?" her father asked gently.

"We – ell," she said very carefully. "Maybe. Yes. But I don't want to tell you everything. Do I have to?"

Richard Granger laughed wistfully. He had hoped he had a few more years before the secrecy started to kick in. "No, pumpkin. Just what you want to."

Hermione sat up suddenly and looked very serious. She chose her words carefully and spoke slowly. After all, she wasn't quite ready to tell her parents about the more dangerous aspects of her past year. They might pull her out of Hogwarts! She had to be careful not to let anything slip. "Well, there's this person. He's not very nice, first off. But I thought he was a lot worse than he is and I spent the whole year thinking he was evil, but he's really not. Do you understand?"

Her father nodded. "Go on."

"Well, I feel awful about it! I wasn't really mean and nasty to him back, but I wasn't very respectful either and I feel horrible about thinking he was a mean, nasty ol' snake and talking about him like he was with my friends."

"The Ron and Harry you told me about?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir. But now I don't know what to do in order to make things right. And I – I kind of like this person."

Richard froze to hear his sweet, young daughter talking about liking boys already but nodded thoughtfully. "Well, Hermione," he began. "It sounds like you owe them an apology. If you don't feel like it can wait until the school year starts, maybe you should write them a letter."

"But I don't have any way to send it! He's not a Muggle born. At least, I don't think so. And even if he is, I don't have an address for him."

Richard got up and walked over to the doorway. "Wait right here and close your eyes. No peeking young lady!" He gave a last glance to make sure that her eyes were shut before crossing the hallway to the bedroom he shared with his wife, Jean, and opening the closet door. Withdrawing a heavy cage, he made his way back to where Hermione waited patiently. Placing her gift on the dresser, he said, "You may open your eyes, now!"

It was an owl. Brown wings gave way to a white body flecked with brown; small brown feathers highlighted a circle around the white face, distinguishing it from the rest of the body. "Daddy, an owl!" she cried out in delight.

He chuckled. "Yes, Hermione, an owl. We were planning to give her to you tonight at your welcome home supper but I thought you might want to meet her now, instead."

"Oh, Daddy, thank you!" she ran to him and threw her arms about his neck.

He hugged her back and smiled. "She's a family owl, mind you – we were tired of driving to an owl post office whenever we wanted to talk to you and you know your mother's love of birds – but she'll go back with you to school and have a place to stay here for when we take a little longer to reply during the year."

Hermione squeezed her father tighter and turned to study her new pet again. "What's her name?"

"Chouette."

"You named her 'owl'?"

Richard shrugged. "You know your mum."

0 * 0 * 0 * 0

Later that evening, just before the Grangers sat down to supper, a female barn owl was winging her way to Scotland. The man to whom she finally dropped her parchment with, a few hours later, looked at the strangely familiar handwriting and raised a brow. Sending the owl on her way with a generously sized treat (just because he was onerous with his students didn't mean he was neglectful of animals) he narrowed his eyes and broke the seal.

"Dear Professor Snape,

Something has been bothering me for the past few days. The way I thought about you and how I acted disrespectfully a few times. I'm truly sorry for thinking that you were a nasty villain who wanted to steal the Sorcerer's Stone. I know that this is untrue and mean.

Please forgive me.

Yours,

Hermione Granger

PS – I also really enjoyed your lecture at the beginning of the year about brewing fame and bottling glory (except for the bit where you were mean to Harry. He was taking notes, you know). Not that I want to do those, really, but I think it is fascinating all you can do with Potions.

A/N: Chouette is French for "owl" (or so the Internet told me) and is pronounced 'shweateh' (I think).


End file.
